


Sleepless Nights

by lizardwriter



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardwriter/pseuds/lizardwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura's mind isn't being kind to her in the middle of the night. Set during season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless Nights

Time ticks by slowly at night. She should be asleep. She needs her rest. How can you formulate a good plan without rest?

There’s too much going on, though. Around her and in her head.

The things that she should be thinking about she’s having trouble focusing on. Instead, Carmilla consumes her thoughts.

Images of Carmilla fill her head. Memories flood her senses. Horrible imaginings battle sweet recollections, both waging war on her psyche and her stress level.

A flash of Carmilla, lying in their shared dorm room, asleep under that large Sumerian text that brings a temporary hint of a smile to Laura’s face, is quickly replaced by a frown. She closes her eyes against the pain of the memory of thinking Carmilla was dead, of parting words and non-goodbyes and thinking she’d seen the last of her and never told her…Well…She still hadn’t told her. Not with words.

 _At least she’s alive,_ Laura thinks. The darkness that she can’t shake from her mind adds, _for now._

Images of Carmilla sinking her fangs into girl after girl, laughing as the blood trickles down their necks, tossing them aside once she’s had her fill, playing with one here, licking the blood off another there, flit through her mind and she feels suddenly sick.

She rolls onto her side and curls up, forcing the imagined scenes away.

Sleep, she instructs herself, but her brain refuses to listen.

Carmilla smiling at her, that lazy smile that’s almost a smirk, yet so filled with love rises unbidden from her memories. It’s a tortuous image these days. She doesn’t get to see that smile anymore, and she’s still grappling with the why’s and how’s of that reality.

Laura pushes down the thought and ignores the burning twinge in her eyes that remind her of far too many tears shed of late. She rolls onto her stomach and moves her head, trying to find a cool place to rest her cheek.

She forces her mind blank for a few minutes, but they draw out seemingly endlessly. She checks the clock and sighs. It’s getting late and she could be interrupted from her non-slumber at any moment by whatever fresh hell life has decided to conjure up for her this time.

She closes her eyes again and tries to focus on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Carmilla’s body limp and lifeless sprawled on the floor. Her chest is a gaping wound. Her eyes are open but vacant. There is no spark there and there never will be again.

“No!” Laura shouts, muffling her voice with her pillow as she fights the panic rising in her chest. Her hands are clenched and tears sting at her eyes, slipping out no matter how tightly she closes them. This is her most frequent nightmare of late. It torments her awake or asleep. It consumes her and destroys her, and all she wants to do is run to the stupid vampire and hold her and hug her and see for a fact that she’s okay, she’s alive, but she can’t do that and she knows it.

She remembers warm embraces, lingering touches, tender kisses, and feeling safe in her vampire protector’s arms.

She opens her eyes to an empty expanse of mattress and cold sheets.

She rolls over again and Carmilla’s voice plays in her head. “I don’t do heroics.”

“I know,” Laura mutters to herself.

Except she does, and that’s part of the problem. If she hadn’t done heroics, Laura wouldn’t expect them.

“I love you,” plays in her head, Carmilla’s voice cracking.

Laura wants to shout, “Lies!” Instead she rolls over again and stares at the ceiling.

Even with her eyes open visions of Carmilla swim before her eyes. She harrumphs and rolls once more, closing her eyes firmly as she reaches out across the bed.

“I miss you,” she whispers to someone who, despite being in the same building, has never felt farther away. 


End file.
